


One Bright Moment, Is All I Ask

by Expectoprongs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: "Team Free Chill", Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Author is perpetually confused, Death is more of a father than a horseman, General Snark and Confusion, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Post - Deathly Hallows, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Expectoprongs/pseuds/Expectoprongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lucifer tries to bind Death to him, he finds that someone already beat him to the punch: Harry Potter, Master of Death, who has decided firmly that he wants nothing to do with the apocalypse. Unfortunately, he never really could stay out of trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The empty shells of dozens of humans lay around his feet, where they belonged. They had served as demon vessels for a short time, just long enough for their lives to be sucked from them in order to raise the last horseman. The fallen angel smiled grimly. Death. Once he had the fourth and most powerful of the horsemen under his thumb, the apocalypse could truly begin and this headache of a war could end.

As he chanted the last of the spells needed in order to complete the ritual, Lucifer began to feel an excitement he hadn't felt since he first escaped the Cage. Pure, unadulterated power crackled through the air, and as the last words fell from his lips the earth seemed to stand still. Every being, celestial and not seemed to hold its breath. Finally, the last piece fell into place.

Where moments earlier there had been nothing, a bleak looking man stood, looking mildly irritated. His suit seemed ruffled, but his sleek dark hair looked eternally pristine.

"Oh hello Death." Lucifer purred, taking in the only being that rivaled God himself in power. The man stood, surveying his surroundings before seemingly noticing the angel for the first time. He rolled his eyes.

"Ah, Lucifer... right? One of God's more annoying creations if my memory serves." Lucifer huffed out a laugh.

"Very insolent for one bound under me, horseman." At that, Death quirked a sardonic half smile, looking at Lucifer as if he was a simple child.

"Angel," he said with condescension in his voice, "I don't think you know quite what you're dealing with."

For the first time since he was cast out of Heaven, Lucifer felt something other than hate and satisfaction. Confusion.

"I bound you to me, you are under my will!" he said almost petulantly.

"It's not that simple, Angel." the man sneered. "I am already bound to someone," He looked Lucifer up and down before smirking. "Someone I am actually quite fond of. Very charming, makes a good fish and chips." The angel felt his confusion melt away into a more familiar anger. "Good luck with Armageddon." With that, the horseman vanished, leaving the exiled angel alone among the corpses. A scream of rage rented the night air.

0O0

A young man, looking to be about twenty years of age, sat quietly on the floor in the middle of his living room. His sparse but homey furnishings had been pushed against the walls, leaving the floor bare but for a few candles. The glow of the candles made the figure's pale skin seem more gaunt than healthy, his trademark green eyes underlined with dark shadows. The man let his eyes drift close, but even still, he sensed everything. He felt his house, liberally encased in runes, wards, and sigils which exuded heavy magic. Farther away, he could sense the life force of all living things in the forest he resided in, focused on how they waxed and waned under his attention. He could see a fox dying in its den, aura sputtering out leaving a shell of what it once was. Simultaneously, a chick hatched from an egg, life force so bright and new it made the jaded man almost smile. Taking a deep breath, the man opened his eyes again, focusing on the present. He could feel someone was coming... and it wasn't his house mate. It was someone far older, and far more familiar.

"Death," the man acknowledged calmly, brushing his unruly dark hair out of his eyes.

"Harrison Potter," the horseman nodded slightly, showing respect.

"It's Black now, and I've asked you to call me Harry." The man, Harry, got up swiftly and flicked his wrist, banishing the candles and moving the furniture back to its normal positions. "Tea?" He passed by the hearth, causing it to ignite with a glance. It cast a warm glow to the previously stark room.

"Please." Death sat down in one of the armchairs, with a familiarity that came with being a regular visitor. Harry returned moments later with two steaming cups of tea. Sugar for the horseman, cream and sugar for him. They sipped it contemplatively. "How are you feeling?"

"You would think after being Master of Death for over ten years, you would get used to it." Harry said wryly, setting his tea cup down. "I still get headaches, especially since this apocalypse business. Sometimes it's hard to control... hard not to see everyone... everything." The wizard sighed, looking a decade older than a moment ago. "It helps to have someone to ground me."

Death gave a sad smile to the boy in front of him. Because that's all he was really, a boy. He didn't ask for any of this. He didn't ask for the knowledge, power and responsibility that came with being the Master. And the boy was so humble, so meek... that's why he had taken a shining to Harry. He was something special. If anyone had to take the job, Harry would be the one.

"Ah yes, the housemate of yours..." he tried to keep the disgust out of his voice, but didn't do a very good job if Harry's face was anything to go by.

"He's a good guy!"

"He's crude, and disrespectful." Harry didn't deny it. Death counted it as a victory. "But this isn't a social call Harry. The apocalypse is accelerating at a breakneck pace... I fear that you may not be able to stay out of it for long." The man pulled a face.

"No."

"It isn't a matter of yes or no." Death was becoming a little irritated. "Lucifer tried to bind me today."

"I don't care. I have already been in one war. I lost everything... everyone I know and love." The green eyed man had a pained face. "I won't... I can't do it again... I just can't." Harry had his end of story face on, so the horseman changed tactics.

"I know you don't want to be a part of this, but being attached to me has linked you to the coming events. Lucifer will look for you, and sooner or later those meat headed hunters will too."

"The Winchesters?" Harry had heard plenty about them from his house mate.

"Yes. And you better hope that they reach you first. You may not be able to die, but you can still be hurt Harry." The Master of Death looked into the horseman's eyes solemnly and inclined his head.

"I'll take it into consideration." he said a bit sadly. Death looked away and began to get up.

"I have to leave, the job's been busier recently." Harry didn't respond, lost in his own thoughts. Death looked at his Master one more time. "I'm sorry." he said quietly, and walked out of the house.


	2. Chapter 2

A motley group of rebels who called themselves Team Free Will trudged through a thick forest, cursing and muttering all the way through. One of the figures in a tan trench coat foraged ahead of the other two, who seemed to be having a tough time getting through the thick underbrush. The one leading, apparently oblivious to the plight of the others in his party, pushed past a particularly long branch, only to have it snap back into the face of the blond human behind him.

“AH! Son of a-” the man who just got whipped in the face pulled out a hunting knife and began viciously hacking at the offending foliage. “Man, I am so sick of these trees,” he grouched. The other man, considerably taller, rolled his eyes and suffered in silence, plucking a stubborn burr off his jacket. 

“I assure you Dean,” the man in the front said without turning back, “the trees are equally sick of you.” The man, Dean, huffed. 

“Remind us again why you can’t zap us to this place?” Dean whined.

“Because,” the man was growing irritated. “the house does not exist. I cannot ‘zap’ as you put it, to places that I cannot pinpoint.” 

“Besides,” the third, tall man put in, “we can’t risk you getting constipated Dean.”

“Shut up Sam!”

“Be quiet both of you!” the no nonsense leader said. The two others, Sam and Dean, both glared but remained quiet. “This is it.” The trench coat man pushed past a couple of bushes into a clearing. It didn’t seem like anything was there to the others.

“Uh, Cas... I don’t see anything,” Sam said awkwardly.

“This house is heavily warded. Human beings such as yourself would not be able to see it.”

“Oh,” was all the tall man could think to say. And what could he say? The two men beside him didn’t really like him all that much at the moment: Castiel, pious angel of the Lord, saw him a stain in the world, and his very own brother, Dean, felt betrayed and angry. He started the apocalypse! He drank demon blood and betrayed his own family! He trusted a _demon_ over his own brother! What was he supposed to do? Act like everything was okay? 

“Let’s go,” Dean said abruptly, as if sensing his brother’s inner turmoil. “Whatever freak that lives here probably gets more jumpy at night.” The blonde pushed ahead of the frozen group, making his way towards... well, whatever it was that he couldn’t see.

“Freak?” Castiel said quizzically, following behind Dean. Sam sighed and put his feelings in a corner. A hunt wasn’t a time to be thinking about his problems. He joined his brother and the angel as they crept into the clearing.

As they got near the center, a rough outline of something was visible, shimmering as if it was being held under water. Sam and Dean froze, unsure of what to do. Castiel, on the other hand, walked forward, before holding up a fist and knocking curtly on what Sam and Dean could only speculate to be a door. Nothing happened.

“Maybe no one’s home,” Dean joked nervously. 

“No, Dean, someone is definitely here. There is smoke coming from the chimney.” The angel knocked again forcefully, and suddenly, as if by magic, the door flew open and a head popped out, looking as though it were floating in mid air. Dean raised his gun in alarm, and the floating head rolled its eyes.

“Oh, look who’s here. The Winchesters and an angel. Surprise surprise.” Castiel took a step back, looking unfazed. “Put that thing down, you prat,” the head snapped, and Dean dropped the gun as if it were burning.

“What the hell?” Dean screeched, clutching his hand.

“You brought us to a witch, Castiel?” Sam asked with a bit of panic in his voice.

“Hey! I’m clearly a man! I’m a _wizard_.” the man snapped. “And you’re not welcome here. Not you _angel_ ,” the man spat, causing Castiel to flinch in surprise, “and most certainly not you worse for wear vessels.” Dean looked affronted, and Sam blushed in embarrassment. 

“We came to see you, Master of Death, because the apocalypse is nigh,” Castiel said calmly. “and it is your duty as Death’s Master to-”

The man’s unnaturally green eyes flashed with anger, making the previously unassuming face look deadly. Castiel suddenly paled with an uncharacteristic show of fear and stepped off the house, which was fluctuating dangerously between visible and invisible. The Winchesters shared a panicked look as the air around them crackled with power.

“Don’t assume you know anything about me _angel_. Fat lot of good _duty’s_ done for me besides get everyone I know killed. So you can take your _duty_ and shove it up your arse or so help me-”

“Please, we need your help,” Sam spoke up, drawing the attention of the angry man. He felt insignificant under the weight of such a weary gaze.

“Everyone needs help.” the man said softly. “Find someone else.” He began to shut the door of the now visible house, which looked like a run down cabin. Ivy covered every surface besides the chimney, door, and windows, giving the house an unearthly look. The door was practically shut when a voice drifted from within the house.

“Harry? Do we have guests? You gotta lighten up a little Mini Reaper, you’re giving me a headache with all your intense brooding. What are you doing, PMSing?” The door flew open revealing an irritated, scrawny, raven haired man, and... someone else. 

“Gabriel?” Castiel asked with shock heavy in his normally emotionless voice. The honey-eyed angel’s recoiled as if slapped, and his jaw dropped.

“Whoops.” he said in a squeak that was unbecoming of an archangel.

“Smooth move Gabe. Now we _have_ to let them in,” the wraith-like wizard muttered, scowling.

“What the HELL is going on?” Dean shouted. Sam stood beside him, scratching the back of his head idly with the pistol he had drawn sometime in the middle of the confrontation. He had the look of a man who had stopped trying to understand ages ago, and was just rolling with whatever crap was thrown at him. Dean, on the other hand, looked like he was constipated, and not because of their resident angel’s transporting powers. His gun was still smoking at his feet, where he had dropped it.

The wizard sighed. 

“You all want some tea? We’ve got Earl Grey,” he said with a defeated tone as he made his way back into the cabin, disappearing from view. 

“Don’t worry,” the archangel snapped, recovering quickly from the surprise of seeing his brother and the _Winchesters_ of all people at his stoop. “I’ll take care of the wards.” He snapped his fingers carelessly and followed his house mate. “Kids these days...”


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel was the first to recover from the shock of seeing his brother. Sam and Dean, on the other hand, still had their jaws on the ground. With one glance back at the two hunters, Castiel followed Harry and Gabriel into the cottage. 

Sam couldn’t help but gasp as he entered the pleasantly warm house. It was a lot bigger on the inside than the outside, another testament that the raven haired youth before them was a magical being. One that they normally would have killed on sight.

Dean still looked a bit twitchy, fingers grasping for the knife he kept on his hip, but one look from Castiel quelled his urge to defend himself. Everything about the living room they were standing in screamed magic, from the broom that was sweeping the room by itself to the moving pictures of a red headed woman and a messy haired man dancing on the mantle. There was ivy draping down from the ceiling, seeming to come from nowhere. Sam and Dean didn’t know what to make of it. They had never seen magic used in an innocent and positive way before. 

When it became clear that Gabriel and the wizard, Harry, weren’t coming into the living room any time soon, Team Free Will made their way gingerly towards the adjacent kitchen, where they heard voices. Keeping out of sight, they listened in on the conversation.

“Gabriel, I can’t believe you let these sods into the house!” Harry hissed at the honey eyed angel, who was leaning carelessly against the counter and popping M&Ms into his mouth. The wizard was putting the kettle on the stove top with a bit more force than necessary, causing water to splash out and hit the hot surface with a hiss. “I’m trying to _avoid_ the apocalypse, not invite the people who started it into my house.”

“Oops,” Gabriel said without any sincerity. Harry growled.

“Lucifer is looking for me. He’s looking for you. He’s looking for Death! And that Sam kid too now! Now we have four thing he wants in one room.”

“Ease up,” Gabriel said casually, “would it really be the end of the world, no pun intended, if we joined the fight? We could turn the tide of the war.” 

Castiel, Sam, and Dean held their breaths as they waited for the answer.

“You’ve been talking to Death again, haven’t you,” Harry said after a moment, resignation heavy in his voice. “You can’t seriously ask me to do this, not again. I may be Master of Death, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing it so much.”

Gabriel sighed and turned away, effectively ending the conversation.

“Alright you muttonheads,” he called towards where Sam, Dean, and Castiel were standing. “You can stop eavesdropping now.” 

Sam flushed with embarrassment, but Dean had no qualms with listening in on people who he considered to be a threat. Castiel just looked as unperturbed as ever.

“Shall we retire to the living room?” Harry asked, levitating two mugs of tea, two of coffee and one hot chocolate. Without waiting for an answer, he brushed past them and took a seat in the living room.

“Tread carefully little bro,” Gabriel whispered to Castiel with an uncharacteristic show of seriousness. “Remember who you are dealing with.” With that, he followed his friend.

0O0

After Lucifer had gotten over the cursory anger he had felt at being beaten to the key component of the apocalypse, he went back to the house of his vessel, Nick, to think about his next move without distraction. He could still move forward with his plans with just the three horsemen, but it wouldn’t be as easy. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any idea of who might have mastership; he hadn’t tuned into angel radio in a millenia, and being locked in the Cage wasn’t conducive to keeping up with the times. 

Tuning into the angel radio was highly undesirable because he wanted as little contact with his “family” as possible. And there was the possibility that they would pick up on his presence if he wasn’t careful. There wasn’t a lot of options however, and he needed answers quickly if he was to get back on track with his plan. So, it was with great trepidation that he closed his eyes and picked up on his brothers and sisters talking. Hearing their voices sent a quick pang of longing through him, but he ruthlessly crushed it and started on a frequency with the lower angels talked on.

_Demon outbreak in Illinois-_

_Garrison 4 reporting in-_

_-requesting back up-_

_-Nathanial is down-_

Concentrating a bit harder, he tuned into a higher paygrade.

_The Michael Sword is on the move-_

_-rebelled? Nobody has rebelled since-_

_We can’t seem to get a handle on where the vessels are-_

_-call themselves “Team Free Will”_

Still not what he was looking for. If he climbed any higher, he would be at a greater risk of being detected. But he had to know where Death was. It was imperative. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be the archangels. 

_Who’s keeping an eye on the brat?_

_We can’t find him, he’s unplottable._

_Not for long._

_Harry-_

_He’s only gained strength since defeating the Dark Lord._

_-dangerous to the operation._

_Potter._

_The human split his soul, how disgusting-_

_Lord Voldemort turned Heaven on its head with his treachery-_

_Master of Death-_

_-can’t let them get to him first._

_-about Lucifer? He must be looking for-_

_-Harrison Black. He changed his name after he was Excommunicated._

_Find him and bring him here._

Lucifer slowly blocked out the voices of the angels, returning to the present. 

“Harrison Black. Master of Death,” he said with a smirk. It sounded right, oddly enough. How he got ahold of that power was irrelevant. He would find him before the angels did.

0O0

Sam and Dean accepted the black coffee gratefully, sipping it and finding it was the perfect temperature. Sam practically moaned, and Dean shot him a glare.

“What?” Sam whined. “Haven’t had coffee this good since, well, ever.” 

Gabriel smiled from behind his mug of hot chocolate as he watched his housemate stare at the brothers. He knew what Harry was thinking about. He was reminiscing about his time at Hogwarts. The thought made him a bit sad, wishing that the young savior hadn’t suffered so much for the sake of an ungrateful people. The wizards were fickle in who they sided with, once Harry accepted the Hallows into his core and defeated Voldemort, he was instantly ostracized. Never mind how much he had sacrificed, how much he had lost. Things had only gotten harder from then on. Especially after the loss of-

A silky voice interrupted the contented silence in the room.

“Potter, what’s the point of having an unplottable house if you keep letting strays in?” A voice asked snidely. Dean immediately brandished his gun, pointing it at Harry. The wizard was unfazed.

“Shut up, sir.” he said with equal sarcasm. Now Sam was getting confused too. Castiel simply looked to the direction of the disembodied voice, finding that it was coming from a portrait of a black haired man. He tilted his head slightly as the man moved to glare at him.

“You let another angel in here? I told you that keeping the thick headed one was a bad idea, that he was going to attract attention, and now here’s another. How many times do I need to repeat myself Potter?”

Harry ignored him and looked to the brothers, who looked as though they were having a stroke.

“Sam, Dean, Castiel... this is my potions professor, Severus Snape.”

“He’s... he’s a portrait,” Sam squeaked. Dean merely pointed his gun at the offending canvas.

“It’s a magical portrait,” Castiel explained, having rudimentary knowledge of wizarding culture. “They’re often made when someone dies.”

“So it’s a ghost,” Dean said, lowering his gun but still not taking his eyes off the professor. The man, Snape, rolled his eyes.

“No, you idiot. Didn’t you listen to the angel? I’m a painting.” He turned towards Harry. “Are you sure these are the hunters who saved the world? They seem a bit...” he paused and gave the brothers a searching look. “...underqualified.” 

“Play nice, professor.” Harry said, barely hiding a smirk.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” Snape huffed. “I’m going to the Headmaster’s quarters.” Without further ado, he walked out of the frame. 

“Where did he go?” Sam asked, eyes wide.

“To Hogwarts,” Harry said in amusement. “He brings me news from there since I’m...” he trailed off, suddenly looking upset. Gabriel swooped in and changed topics before things got uncomfortable.

“So, what are you here for,” he asked shrewdly. “To asked Mister Master here to clean up your mess?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Harry grumbled, but he didn’t look too peeved.

Castiel spoke up.

“We need your help, Harry. Lucifer is on the rise.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “He tried to bind Death a few days ago...” he narrowed his eyes. “How did you find me?”

“We know a guy,” Dean said evasively.

“Crowley, that little shit,” Gabriel growled. “It was only a matter of time before the his royal highness got bored of our disappearing act.” Harry sighed and rubbed his temples, abandoning his tea. 

“That idiot’s going to get us all killed.” he sighed. 

“You know the demon?” Castiel asked, wondering just how much the duo knew about their plans.

“I met him about the same time I met Gabriel,” Harry sighed. “We keep in touch sometimes.”

“You ‘keep in touch’ with the King of Crossroads,” Dean scoffed. 

“Yes,” Harry and Gabriel retorted at the same time.

“Okay, that was a little creepy.” Dean said.

“So, will you-” Sam was interrupted by the fire suddenly shooting up abnormally.

“What the-” Dean said, barely restraining himself from lifting his gun yet again.

“Floo,” Castiel intoned in a rather matter of fact manner.

“Must be Luna,” Harry said, looking concerned. “No one else has access to my fireplace.” Sam and Dean’s eyes widened yet again as a face appeared in the flames. Harry crouched down next to it and tried to quell his own panic. “Luna?” 

“Harry!” she said, sounding out of breath. 

“Luna, what have you seen,” Harry asked quickly, recognizing the quick breathing of someone who had just had a vision.

“Harry, you’re in terrible danger.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has actually been done and posted on my other account for a while, but I forgot to post it here. This story (as well as all my others) are on hiatus until I finish a different Hannibal fanfiction I've been writing. I'm sorry for the wait/inconvenience.

_“Harry, you’re in terrible danger.”_

“Great. Now we’re getting bad news from a fireplace.” Dean said, staring suspiciously at the face in the fire. 

“Dean Winchester? And Sam Winchester?” the soft voice came from the green tinted flames. Sam and Dean paled drastically, white knuckling the guns they kept in their hands.

“Who are you, and how do you know who we are?” Dean barked Luna, causing her to giggle airily. 

“Everyone knows who you two are, silly,” she smiled vaguely. “You’re the vessels! It’s very nice to meet you.” She beamed pleasantly at the two Winchesters, who weren’t keen on replicating the sentiment. 

“Are you a prophet?” Sam asked, curious. As far as he knew, Chuck was the only prophet on earth. Another one, especially one not monitored by the angels, was a game changer. Castiel’s face was wrinkled in a trademark show of confusion.

“She is not. I have every name of every prophet etched into my brain. None of them, past, present, or future, have the name of Luna.” 

“Where does she get her information then? Harry said something about ‘seeing’?” Sam questioned weakly, not ready to give up on his dwindling hope of a new ally. 

“Nargles,” Luna whispered conspiratorially. “They really are remarkable creatures. It’s a travesty that the Ministry won’t recognize them as a magical creature...”

“Is she high?” Dean grunted, turning towards Harry. Harry, in turn, ignored the rude Winchester. 

“Luna, is it safe to come through?” 

“For now, yes. The surveillance is scarce due to riots in Diagon Alley. There was a loyalist mark shot into the sky over the Ministry of Magic.” 

Harry sighed, rubbing his faded scar which had become popular symbol to loyalists, people who still supported him even though he was exiled. 

“Hang on, I’m coming through.” Harry stood up, and without even hesitating, walked right into the flames. 

Dean shifted uncomfortably as the flames sparked red, roared, and then died. The cabin was filled with tense silence as the two angels and two humans sat together, stiffly drinking their respective drinks and not saying a word. Sam and Dean flinched at the occasional inanimate object that moved by itself, and Castiel observed the residence of the Master of Death with a critical eye. Gabriel seemed content in making obscene amounts of whipped cream appear on his hot chocolate. Finally, Castiel broke the silence with all the finesse of a drunk polar bear.

“Brother,” he said in a deep voice, “this ‘Luna’... does she get her visions from impure sources?” His face conveyed an endearing earnestness, a desire to protect his makeshift family. If there was a Whore of Babylon on the loose, it was his duty to destroy it.

“Oh Cas, you naive ball of feathers,” Gabriel said with amusement, licking a bit of topping off his lip, “I just want to ruffle your sex hair right now.” 

“My... sex hair?” Castiel pronounced slowly, the words foreign in his mouth. Sam hid a laugh behind his hand, and even Dean had a twinkle in his eye, not that he’d ever admit it. 

“It’s like you style it, I swear,” Gabriel muttered to himself. Castiel responded with a classic head tilt coupled with a bewildered look. “Nevermind bro. Luna isn’t a prophet, not in the traditional sense. She’s a wizard. They call their prophets ‘seers’. They get their visions from magic.” 

“Not from Heaven?” 

“Not from Heaven,” Gabriel confirmed with a nod.

“Then what was up with the Nargles crap?” Dean asked, not overly kind. 

“From what Mister Master told me, Lovegood sees her world differently than us. The way she lives can seem... weird, because the way she perceives life is weird.” 

“So basically, she’s nuts.” Dean said matter of factly, causing Sam to blush in embarrassment over his brother’s lack of tact.

Gabriel didn’t deny it, but his eyes were as hard as flint. “Don’t let Harry hear you say that,” he said ominously. He disappeared with a flutter of feathers.

“He’s changed,” Sam said thoughtfully, staring at the space the Trickster had just occupied.

“No he hasn’t,” Castiel said sadly. “He hasn’t changed one bit.” 

He had always been protective over those he cared about, and it seemed as though Harry had fallen straight into that category.

0O0

Harry stepped out of the flames a few minutes later, ignoring the wide eyed hunters. 

“Where’s Gabriel?” he snapped, sharp eyes noting his friend’s absence immediately. 

“He left,” Castiel supplied unhelpfully. Harry sighed and muttered something about ‘feather brained idiots’ under his breath.

“Well, Lucifer’s coming. He knows where we are. Gabe can meet us on the road.” 

“Lucifer,” Sam said nervously. “How could he know we’re here?” 

Harry looked up sharply at the pale man, noting the bags under his eyes. It was easy to forget that these two bumbling gigantors were vessels to the most powerful angels in Heaven. That means that Lucifer was hard pressed to get the young man to say ‘yes’. An unhappy Satan made for a painful existence for Sam. Harry made a mental note to help him later.

“If two idiots like you could find me, it’s not too much a stretch of the imagination that an all powerful being did,” he snarked. He snapped his fingers and a carpet bag appeared in his hands. Everyone flinched at its sudden arrival. Items started zooming around the house into the bag, which never seemed to get any fuller.

“Dude, we have got to get one of those,” Sam gaped. He turned to the young wizard. “Where did you get it?” 

Harry’s mouth went dry and he stopped his restless bustling around the house. His back was tense and he seemed to curl in on himself. The objects previously flying about the room hovered nervously, and the human occupants waited with baited breath.

“It- it was my friend’s,” he said in a voice that clearly stated that no more would be said on the subject. Sam recognized the finality for what it was and tactfully backed off. Dean, meanwhile, was trying to avoid the flying toiletries that just came down from the bathroom. 

“Come on!” he growled as a toothbrush hit him in the face. “They aren’t hitting anyone else! What the hell man?” Harry seemed to snap out of his funk as quickly as he fell into it. He grinned at the elder Winchester, who was muttering a string of curses. 

“I know what you said about Luna,” he smirked as a cauldron bowled into Dean’s stomach. 

“Son of a ooomph,” Dean was interrupted by a sleeping bag. “Not cool,” he whined. Harry shrugged. 

“Karma’s a bitch.” Sam tried unsuccessfully to stifle laughter and a tube of toothpaste hit his head. 

“Ow,” he whined as well. Harry shrugged again and left the room. He had seen Castiel leave at some point, and went to follow the wayward angel. No need to have that stick in the mud poking his wings where they didn’t belong. 

He found the rebel angel his room, sitting on his now bare bed. The sleeping bag and pillows had been removed, leaving a barely adequate lump that didn’t really do much to cushion the hard floor. It didn’t matter that much, being the Master of Death afforded him the ability to forgo sleep.

“Who is this,” Castiel said quietly, nodding at the empty portrait on the wall. Castiel had heard stories of the savior of the wizarding world, and knew some things about the culture, but was woefully under informed about many of the details. It didn’t seem like his place to pry back in Heaven. It was in the archangels’ hands then. The only things he really knew of the enigmatic man before him was that he defeated a man that challenged the Heavens by shredding his own soul to become immortal. Harry Potter. Victorious, but bitter. He had lost a lot, but just what, Castiel wasn’t sure.

“That’s... a friend. She isn’t here right now. She’s visiting Ron’s flat.” Harry said, voice carefully devoid of any emotion. He wasn’t a stranger to death, it was a very large part of who he was, but sometimes it still hit him very hard. No matter how powerful he was, no matter that he essentially lorded over any creature bound to death, he still couldn’t bring his friend back. It wasn’t his place. It was only God’s. The thought was bitter in his mouth, worming its way to the surface. He turned to Castiel. “I will help you derail the Apocalypse. But only as a screw you to the man upstairs,” Harry said without any inflection. 

He wanted to believe what he had said, that he was detached. But it was a lie. Despite the fact that he lived in a gray area between life and death, he found that recently, he had a lot to live for. 

0O0

Castiel shivered as the raw magic of Harry’s verbal commitment shuddered through his sensitive wings. Harry seemed like an unassuming young man, but his power lay coiled and ready under his skin. Having the Master on their side could change the tide of the war, and keep him out of Lucifer’s hands. 

A flutter sounded next to Harry, and Gabriel stood with a smug smile on his face.

“So! You finally decided to join the team, huh whiz kid?” Harry frowned at his friend and Gabriel ruffled his hair, resulting in an undignified squawk. 

“You knew it would come to this, didn’t you,” Harry pouted, looking the part of a petulant teenager.

“Yup!” Gabriel said, popping the ‘p’. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have one more team member to scoop up before we skedaddle.” He grinned boyishly, winking at Castiel and Harry before disappearing. 

“I need a headache potion,” Harry muttered, disappearing with a loud crack. Castiel was left alone with the empty portrait. Harry reappeared out of thin air, downing a vial of potion. When he let the glass down from his mouth, he scowled at Castiel. “What are you waiting for, Lucifer to turn you into spaghetti? Grab the portrait!” 

They all converged into the living room, standing around the carpet bag and two empty portraits.

“Is it really necessary to bring these,” Dean complained, resisting the urge to kick the empty frames. “They’re big and clunky... and damn creepy.” Sam couldn’t help but agree. 

“We’re going to need all the help we can get, even from paintings,” Harry said sharply. He waved his hand and they shrank to a more manageable size. “Snape is _not_ going to be happy about this,” Harry muttered, shoving the frames into the infinite bag. 

Gabriel’s arrival was announced by a flutter of wings and a string of curses. He listed to the side slightly, struggling with a squirming man which he had by the scruff of his neck.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce Team Free Chill,” he bellowed loudly. Harry groaned and rubbed at his headache, shooting the Trickster a cold glare that could make a Wendigo run in fear. Gabriel was unaffected.

“Team Free Chill?” Sam said indignantly. “What happened to Team Free Will?”

“Well, I’m on your team now, so we’re upgrading to ‘chill’,” Gabriel said with a smirk. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but the boisterous archangel beat him to it. “A stick in the mud angel,” Castiel’s mouth pursed slightly in agitation, “a moose,” Sam’s face turned red, “an overprotective dick who’s fun to kill,” Dean looked as though he was about to strangle him, “Mister Master,” Harry snorted, but looked more amused than angry, “yours truly, and a slimy snarky, soul sucker!” he proclaimed proudly, holding up the cursing man for all to see. 

“Is that... Crowley?”


End file.
